Steele Morning
by RJ Harrington
Summary: So what happened the morning after at Ashford Castle, Ireland? Laura and Remington struggle with news from home and a ghost from the past.
1. Chapter 1

_OK, so everyone has written a "When the Lights Went Out" story, so this one assumes they didn't get together the first night after the lights went out. It starts the next morning in Ashford Castle, Ireland. As Angie says, Disclaimer: Blah Blah Blah…._

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 1

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura lay nestled in piles of deep purple sheets, staring at the canopy that covered the bed. She pulled the bedspread to her shoulder to warm her bare skin chilled by the brisk castle air, and turned to look at him.

She had understood his need the night before to forego the love making they had desired for more than four years, to comfort the man who had lost his father. But, she had to admit she was more than a little relieved by the whole experience since she was unsure and unsettled by what came next. Despite telling herself, and him, otherwise, she still wasn't convinced he wouldn't leave her. Just as her old fear threatened to grasp her once more, his eyes opened and struggled to focus in the morning sunlight that slipped around the edge of the heavy curtains in the master bedroom of Ashford Castle. He smiled a sleepy smile and brushed the back of his hand across her cheek.

"Good morning, Mrs. Steele," he whispered.

She couldn't help but smile. She wondered if he knew how well he could disarm her; to cheer her spirit no matter the circumstance. She figured he did.

"Good morning, Mr. Steele. Sleep well?"

"I slept with the most beautiful woman finally wrapped in my arms in a most beautiful setting. Slept like a baby."

"Ah," Laura said with her impish grin.

He pulled her closer to tap his lips on her bare shoulder.

"And, how about you, your Ladyship?"

"Oh, fine," she forced as she moved to slide her legs out of bed.

Remington grabbed her wrist. "Laura?" She couldn't look at him.

"Is it about last night? My mood, Daniel, getting in the way; something coming between us . . . again? If so, I'm sor…" She interrupted, "No, that's not it."

Tears welled in her eyes. She struggled to keep them from falling as he sat up and turned to face her on the edge of the bed.

"Then, what is it?"

Laura started to laugh and cry at the same time. All of the emotions she'd held in check for four years – the thrill of finding him in Remington Steele's office and not following the stolen jewels to San Francisco, the itchiness she felt but knew she had to control, the warmth she felt every time they slow danced in front of the fireplace or kissed in the Auburn. The annoyances, the thrill, the adventure. It all hit at once.

Remington sat stunned and bewildered, not quite sure how to react. He had never seen this much emotion from the woman who prided herself in organization, control and hard work. Laura finally stopped long enough to speak. Her smile and tear-streaked face reminded him of the rainy night in his living room when his story of Xenos and his possibilities had broken her despair.

"I'm scared," she said as her hands moved down her face and he reached to steady them in his. "I know it's stupid and I know we've worked to get to this point, but I have so much to lose. I'm in too deep and I'm scared."

Remington kissed her hand and waited for her to go on.

In a rapid, rambling tone, Laura continued. "I'm going to say something I never thought I'd say and I want you to know that once I say it, there's no going back. Once I let myself feel what I'm feeling and stop fighting the fear and anxiety of being hurt; to let go of the pain of my father leaving and Wilson, that you might be overwhelmed by what you find."

Remington was so excited he could hardly contain it, but he didn't want to scare Laura further, so he smiled a toothy grin; his blue eyes shining in the sunlight.

"I might surprise you," he assured her.

"OK, well here it goes."

She pulled her legs back onto the bed to face him and sat with them crossed; her white gown pulled above her knees; her hands in his. She took a deep breath and sighed. "I love you. I've loved you longer than I care to admit. I was too scared to let go, to be wild and crazy Laura. But, if we're going to take that next step, cross that line, I want to do it completely."

She looked at him, begging with her eyes for some reaction.

Remington put his hand on the side of Laura's face in a tender gesture that spoke more in silence than any words could. Now, HE didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Laura," he smiled and stopped to collect his thoughts. "I have never felt about anyone the way I feel for you. At first, it scared me too and confused me, since you were like no other woman I had ever met. You had spunk and fire and a naivety that was captivating. I couldn't get enough; I still can't."

He lifted her chin to look into her sweet blood-shot brown eyes.

"I love you, Laura."

That was it. All of the fear washed away, and holding hands didn't seem to be enough anymore.

They leaned across Laura's legs to kiss gently, then sat back and paused to look at each other. His dark hair was disheveled with a few wisps hanging across his forehead; his gold medallion nestled in his chest. Laura's now darker hair curved at her shoulders, and one strap of her gown had fallen to the side.

As he had done so many times before, Remington grasped Laura's face in his hands and kissed her; the kiss growing more passionate with each touch.

Laura wrapped her arms around his neck and he lowered her onto the purple satin. He kissed her shimmering eyes, her cheek, her neck. She closed her eyes as she struggled to breathe. As his warm breath passed her ear, he whispered "I love you."

She giggled as her hands met his at the buttons of her nightgown, both racing to lose their clothes. Despite their effort to take it slow, it was becoming increasingly difficult. She wanted to feel his warm skin against hers; to finally give herself completely to the man who had surpassed everything she ever imagined.

He lifted her gown over her head, and they both worked his pajama pants to end of the bed. The now bright sunlight offered both a clear view, and they smiled. They had both wondered many times what was under those $800 suits and silk skirts from Saint-Tropez West. They touched and explored and satisfied their curiosities.

When the moment finally arrived, it was effortless and sweet. The intensity was overwhelming. In exhaustion (emotionally and physically), Remington collapsed with his head resting on Laura's shoulder. Their skin was glistening and both worked to slow their breathing.

Laura couldn't help the tears in her eyes. The joy was almost too much to handle. They moved to face each other, resting on their sides, arms wrapped around the other. Remington propped himself onto his elbow and rested his head in his palm just high enough to look down on Laura's flushed face. She had such natural beauty.

"That was amazing Mrs. Steele," Remington said as he brushed her hair from above her eyes and kissed her forehead.

"You weren't too bad yourself, Mr. Steele," she retorted with a smile.

They kissed gently. Both wore a slight grin as they looked over each others eyes, lips, hair, shoulders; more out of disbelief than anything.

After caressing Laura's arm, Remington's gaze returned to her eyes.

"Instead of rushing down to a breakfast of boiled potato and room-temperature water, what would you say to a mid-morning nap?" he offered as he ran his fingers through her hair.

Laura smiled. "I'm sure your motives are pure."

Knowing that Mildred, Mikline and the others would be returning to the castle in a few hours, the newlyweds nestled in the dark purple sheets of the castle's master suite to enjoy the warmth, and to rest before starting their new life.

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 2

By R.J. Harrington,

The loud knock at the door could mean only one thing: Mildred had returned from her desperate trip into town for groceries.

"Boss? Miss Holt? Are you in there? I know I shouldn't be bothering you, but it is after noon and I found some food for lunch. …. Mr. Steele?"

Before her fist could connect a second time, the handle turned and the heavy wooden door creaked open.

"Hi, Mildred. Yes, we're here." Remington rubbed his sleepy eyes and ran his fingers through his hair to straighten wayward strands. Mildred assessed his attire – silk pajama pants and his paisley blue robe. She couldn't resist the urge to peak around the corner toward the master bed.

All she could see were the dark purple satin sheets and Laura's bare shoulders. Now, she wished she hadn't. With a look of worry and flushed cheeks, she glanced at Remington who'd managed a knowing crooked grin.

"Sorry boss."

"That's OK Mildred," he said as he put his arm around her shoulders. "We wouldn't have it any other way. Mrs. Steele and I will be down shortly to enjoy whatever you found for us to eat."

Mildred smiled, then turned to head down the stairs. She felt a pang of guilt, since she knew what she would find in the master suite of Ashford Castle, but couldn't resist seeing for herself. It appeared her kids had worked through whatever was keeping them apart.

Remington walked to Laura and sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was awake. Her satisfied grin gave her away.

"Was that our favorite interruption?" she managed in a sleepy morning tone.

"It was indeed. Our venerable Miss Krebs who, under the guise of offering a meal, was making sure we had finally consummated this relationship."

"And, was she satisfied?"

"If her pink cheeks were any indication, I would say so. Not as satisfied as me, however."

Laura slid her hand around his neck and pulled herself up to gently kiss his lips. The new lovers sat facing each other in silence; each mentally working through the events of the last 48 hours; each still in disbelief. Laura was so lost in thought, she didn't notice the sheet had fallen to her waist. The action didn't go unnoticed by Remington. He kept his realization and his joy to himself.

Breaking his stare and her daydreaming, he asked "Did you ever think we would make it to today?"

"I'm not sure where we are to be quite honest."

Noticing the distress on Remington's face, she added, "But I like it whatever it is." Remington smiled. He knew she was taking a leap of faith, being happy and somewhat relaxed without getting the guarantees she needed.

After all, they had a fake marriage license, a fake marriage, a soon-to-be fake home and at this point would be merely posing as husband and wife for two years to escape the wrath of immigration. Not much of a commitment.

He would deal with that later. For now, he was hungry and he assumed his bride was the same.

"Mildred had Bridgette prepare us lunch; with real food and no pink slips in sight. What do you say to a hot shower, a fresh set of clothes and a trip to another part of the castle?"

"We _have_ been a little preoccupied in here haven't we?" Laura beamed.

After decidedly separate showers – they wouldn't make it downstairs till dark otherwise – and a change of fresh crisp clothes, the Steeles floated down the marble steps to the austere dining room. This time they sat on either side of a corner at the head of the table.

They slid their napkins over their laps and leaned back to allow servers to place their meals. The telephone rang.

O'Casey answered and set the phone on the table next to Laura. "A call for you, your Ladyship."

"Thank you, Ryan."

"Hello, this is Mrs. Steele?"

"This is who? Laura?"

"Frances?"

"Laura, you need to come home. It's mother."

Laura listened to her older sister's explanation, then said "OK, goodbye" and hung up. She sat dazed for a moment, then in a quick flash of movement, pushed back her chair, threw her napkin on the table and slammed her palm before heading out the door.

"Damnit"

Mildred and Remington looked at each other. Neither was anxious to follow, since they both knew anything to do with Abigail Holt was a ticking time bomb they wanted to avoid.

As if drawing the emotional short straw, Remington knew he was the one to flesh out what was wrong. He found Laura wandering by the lake. It was the same spot he had sought solace only a few days earlier to contemplate his father. Pushing the rising anger over Daniel out of his mind, he walked up behind his wife.

"Laura?"

She turned to see him coming, but returned her stare over the water.

This wasn't like her to retreat into herself. That was his job. He stood behind her. Both of them silent.

Then, Laura whispered, "I knew I would face this day. When my mother started losing her battles and I would be beckoned to her side. …. Damnit. Who the hell does she think she is?" Laura regretted her statement as soon as she said it, but it was already out. Remington watched in amazement. He knew her mother always annoyed her – greatly -- but he never realized her pain was so deep. She'd hid it well…until now.

Laura continued, "She has battered my self confidence with never-ending judgments since I was a child, disapproved of my personal _and_ professional life, and now she needs me. I love my mother, but," … she paused … "it has all been a waste. A true waste."

She dropped to her knees. "Why didn't she just love me for who I am? Now it's going to be too late."

Remington knelt in front of her as she buried her head in his chest and cried.

He lifted her head and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Laura … Laura, it's going to be OK. Please tell me what's wrong. What did Frances say?"

"We need to go home. I need to go home."

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 3

By R.J. Harrington,

The Steeles sat in silence in the backseat of the Piper's car as their brother-in-law chauffeured them on the nearly two-hour drive up Interstate 101 from LAX to Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara.

Remington could see Laura was already in "Mother Mode," and wanted to be left alone, but he couldn't stand to do nothing. He brushed his hand across the leather seat and laced his fingers with hers. She squeezed as if hanging on for life, but didn't turn from the window.

"Here we are," Donald said as they entered the hospital parking lot. He glanced over the seat to catch a glimpse of Remington's face, hoping for a response, but not getting one.

Remington got out and walked around the car. He opened Laura's door and helped her out. She stayed close, clutching his arm with both hands and staring at the hospital entrance.

"I have to pick up the kids from school, so I'll take your bags to our house while you're here," Donald offered. "Frances is upstairs. Room 1372."

"Alright, thanks mate. We'll be there soon."

"No problem. Take your time. Good luck dealing with both Holt sisters without me."

Remington managed a smile. It was the first one he'd mustered since yesterday afternoon when their day held such promise. How quickly it had turned to melee. Luckily, Mildred was staying behind in Ireland for one more day, so Remington and Laura didn't have to pack everything. She would ship most of it back to Los Angeles before returning to help the Steeles reopen Remington Steele Investigations.

Remington pushed the elevator button for the third floor, then led Laura in by her hand. At the risk of having his head lopped off as she'd once put it, he started in.

"You don't have to do this by yourself, Laura. Keeping everything inside is not good for you or us. You convinced me of that, remember?"

She looked up and caught his gaze. Tears pooled in her eyes and her voice was soft.

"I know."

She returned her stare to the tile pattern on the elevator floor.

"I'm just not sure I'm feeling anything to share right now, other than anger."

"Laura, I don't think it's a good idea to go in there with a bloody chip on your shoulder. Don't make the same mistake I did with Daniel. Don't miss a chance to make it right. She's your mother for God's sake."

"How would you know anything about a mother," she shot back." You never had one!"

Remington's jaw tightened, his lips pressed thinly together to stop the words in his head from escaping his mouth. The urge to strike something was overwhelming. It was the same feeling he had after their fight at the sensitivity spa when she told him she was better off without him. He had hoped never to feel it again.

Remington covered his mouth as much in contemplation as prevention. The elevator doors opened.

"You go on without me," he demanded. He slid his hands in his pockets and tilted his chin to his chest.

Laura got out of the elevator and turned. Remington looked up just in time to meet her eyes as the doors closed. She took a deep breath and walked to 1372.

As Laura entered the room, she saw Frances sitting in the hospital's vinyl recliner by the window. Her mother was propped on the extra pillow Donald provided to help her breathe better.

"Hi, Frances."

"Oh, hi, Laura. Mother is asleep, but she should wake soon."

They hugged.

"What have the doctors told you so far?"

"Well, you know she has been having the TIAs for a couple of years, so initially they thought it was the next step we expected, a mild stroke. But, for some reason, they came in this morning and said they needed to do another blood test. I've been waiting all day, Laura, but I haven't heard _anything,_" Frances' voice started to rise into the shrill tone she made when flustered.

"It's OK, Frances. Sometimes these things take a while. I'm sure we'll hear something soon."

Abigail rustled the sheets. She groaned and squinted her eyes just enough to see Laura.

"Or-a," she said, not able to form her words completely yet, but a good sign anyway.

"Hi, Mother."

Laura looked at her older sister. Frances took the cue to leave.

"Mother, we need to talk…."

Frances returned an hour later when she met Dr. Haskett coming down the hall, and poked her head into the room.

She found Laura and Abigail hugging, crying, laughing and holding hands.

"I hate to interrupt this little reunion, but Dr. Haskett is here."

"Hi, doctor, I'm Laura Steele."

Frances and Abigail looked at each other in surprise, then turned to Laura.

"I'll explain later," Laura said with a wave of both hands. "Now, Dr. Haskett, have the blood test results come back yet?"

"Yes." He looked at Abigail, then Laura and Frances. "Can I talk to the two of you outside?"

The three of them moved into the hall and pulled the door closed behind them.

"There is a discrepancy that I need to ask you about. I hope you can help clear up what we found."

"What discrepancy? Was it not a stroke?" Laura asked.

"Yes, it was a stroke, but I don't think the cause was natural."

"What?"

"We found high levels of Trasylol, a clot-forming drug that..."

"I know what Trasylol is doctor. What is it doing in my mother's blood?"

"Well, _I_ don't know what it is," Frances interrupted. "What is Tray-see-lul or whatever you call it?"

"Trasylol is a controversial medicine that was used to reduce bleeding during heart bypass surgery. It was recalled after studies found that it increased the risk of kidney disease, heart attack and stroke."

"But, she wasn't on Try-see-whatever," Frances chimed.

"Really, Frances, I think we've established that."

"No reason to get snippy Laura."

Laura turned her attention to Dr. Haskett. "Doctor, do any of the hospital records show Trasylol being administered?"

"No. We believe it was given to your mother before she arrived and most likely was the cause of the stroke."

"So, you're saying someone gave this to her with the intention of hurting her?"

"I can't guess as to motive Mrs. Steele, but, yes, it appears that she was not taking this medicine until she was given a very high dose that led to her current condition. Now, the good news is, it was a mild stroke. Your mother is in otherwise very good health and with rehabilitation, she will likely return to normal."

"That's good to hear doctor, but if this was a malicious act, I doubt my mother will be safe here _or_ at the rehabilitation center."

Frances rejoined the conversation. "Laura, the rehabilitation center is just around the corner on De la Vina. It's outpatient so she doesn't have to stay there."

Laura sneered at Frances and entered the room.

"Mother, have you taken any new medicine lately or did anyone give you medicine before you arrived at the hospital?"

"No, I don't think so….the only new thing I have been taking are the anti-aging injections Francois has been giving me."

"Francois? Who the hell is Francois?"

"Really, Laura, you should watch your language."

"Mother, this is serious, who is he?"

Laura heard a noise at the door and turned. Remington was standing in the doorway, leaning against the metal frame with his arms and ankles crossed. She smiled.

Abigail continued. "Well, Francois is a wonderful man I met at our church market. He struck me right away because he reminded me so much of Daniel. He even had some type of royal military background."

"Does he have a last name Mother?"

"Of course, Laura. His name is Francois Dubois."

Laura heard Remington gasp. She spun around. His eyes were wide and his jaw dropped.

"Remington, what is it?"

"Laura, we need to get your mother out of here now."

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 4

By R.J. Harrington,

The off-duty police officer arranged through Det. Jarvis stood guard outside of Abigail's room at the Bella Maggiore Inn in Ventura. Remington decided it would be best to move his new mother-in-law out of Santa Barbara, and it was too risky for her to stay at the condo or the loft.

Not wanting to put anyone else at risk, they retrieved their bags from the Piper's house and booked a room under an alias at the same bed and breakfast.

Laura still hadn't asked Remington why they were in danger -- and she wasn't sure she wanted to know -- but first things first. After securing the guard, she hired occupational and speech therapists to visit Abigail once a day for three hours. She called Mildred to let her know they were OK and to update Mrs. Holt's condition. Mildred would return to Los Angeles on Friday and open the agency as planned Monday morning.

Once everything was in place, Laura returned the telephone receiver to its base and focused on Remington. He was nervously checking doors and locks, and the windows to an outdoor shared patio.

"Can you stop for a moment?"

"Laura, we can't take any chances."

"Please, just stop."

"OK," he sat down on the bed, "I've stopped."

"I've trusted you blindly to this point and followed what you thought was best. But, we need to talk. I need to know why my mother is stashed away with police protection in an old bed and breakfast, a haunted one at that, and we are hours from home with only a few days change of clothes."

"It's Francois Dubois."

"Really, thank you," she said sarcastically. "I _am_ a detective remember. What about Francois Dubois?"

Remington stood, swapping places with Laura as she sat on the bed. He walked to the other side of the room and turned to look at her.

"Laura, I don't think you want to know this."

Her heart sank, but her facade was indignant. "He quite possibly was trying to kill my mother. Now who the hell is Francois Dubois?"

Remington started to pace.

"Francois was the buyer for whom I was to steal the Royal Lavulite gems."

"But, you said you were stealing them to return them to the South African government."

"Well, I lied."

"You lied? What do you mean you lied?

"Good Lord, Laura, why would I steal them to give back to the government? I was stealing them to make a profit as part of a contract."

"And, Neff and Kessler?"

"My partners, so to speak. Except that when the courier who was hired by Francois to get the gems out of South Africa tried to make a buck on his own, they killed him, and I didn't want any part of that. I followed the gems to Los Angeles, hoping to complete the job and get ahead of Neff and Kessler, who wanted me dead as well."

"So how does my mother fit into all of this?"

"As you know I never completed the job," Remington continued with his hands taking turns flailing in the air and dipping in his pockets. "After the stones were recovered from Gordon Hunter, they were returned to South Africa. I had already received a partial payment from Francois and was supposed to fly to San Francisco to collect the rest once I'd procured the gems. When he discovered that I not only failed to steal the gems, but had helped a detective protect them, he threatened to hunt me down and kill my family one by one until I was the only one left. Until seven days ago I didn't _have_ a family."

"So, that's why you didn't go to San Francisco. And, why you assumed Remington Steele's identity -- to avoid Mr. Dubois?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Laura. The details didn't matter at the time, and in the years since, there never seemed to be a reason or a proper time. There also was a real possibility that it would ruin any progress we'd made in this relationship, if not end it completely."

Great, she thought. Their whole relationship was based on a lie more than she knew. What a fool she was to think he'd stayed because he felt some attraction to her; that he enjoyed impossible challenges.

The old feelings of mistrust and doubt threatened to surface, but Laura held them in check. It was a skill she'd practiced since her faith in him wavered when their agency was a victim of fraud and Remington was accused of stealing $6 million in unset diamonds.

It wasn't anger she was feeling; she was hurt. She stood from the bed and walked near the wall to face him.

"Pieces of your damned past keep coming back to haunt us, Mr. Steele. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever be able to stop worrying about someone showing up to settle an old score. And, now you tell me that one of these past indiscretions might have resulted in my family getting hurt if we got married, and you didn't think it was important to tell me?"

Her reversion to "Mr. Steele" did not go unnoticed by Remington. The sting she meant to inflict was effective.

"If you remember, Laura, I didn't have much time to plan such conversations in an hour and ten minutes. To be honest, I didn't think Francois would follow through on his promise or track me long enough to execute his plan."

Detective Laura took over, pushing Emotional Laura to the back burner.

"Well, it seems we have one of two choices. We can either get a public divorce that will most certainly result in you being deported. Not that that option doesn't sound appealing right now. Or two, we can find Mr. Dubois before he finds us."

Remington waited for her choice, not quite sure it was obvious.

"He doesn't know we're on to him, and we need to keep it that way. I'll ask Mother when she expected to see him next and we'll go from there."

Remington knew he had a brief reprieve while Laura planned their next move. When her urge to plan wore off, however, he would face a firestorm of questions to which he wasn't sure he had the answers -- at least not the ones she wanted to hear.

Maybe this marriage, fake as it was, was not the solution they'd hoped. He had put Laura in danger, took advantage of her feelings to keep from being deported and nearly got Abigail Holt murdered.

Maybe the best thing for him to do was leave, and make sure Francois knew it.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 5

By R.J. Harrington,

After enjoying a candle-lit dinner in the open air café at the back of the bed and breakfast, Remington and Laura made a quick stop to check on Abigail. They gleaned as much information as possible about Francois before returning to their suite on the second floor.

While Laura finished putting away what little belongings they had, Remington moved to the balcony overlooking California Street. He stared absently at the homes that disappeared into the foggy hills opposite the ocean and listened to music blaring from the club across the street.

Laura walked onto the balcony, took a quick glance at her husband's face and stood with her hands on the railing, staring in the same direction.

"With all of this excitement the last two days, I haven't had a chance to tell you I'm sorry."

Remington stared forward.

"What I said about you not having a mother was uncalled for and I'm so sorry I hurt you. … Did you hear me?"

"Yes, Laura."

"Remington, I don't know what else to say. I was angry and worried about my Mother and I took it out on you. I feel awful. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Remington turned to face her. An impish grin grew on his face.

Laura smiled and shook her head. "Why do I ask?"

He slid his hand across the railing and covered hers. "No one said this would be easy Miss Holt."

"No, they didn't." She flipped her hand to clasp his.

Recognizing the opportunity, he pulled her into an embrace. They swayed without knowing it and when her eyes lifted to meet his, he leaned to gently kiss her. She watched him briefly, then closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment.

He kissed her softly again … and again … and again, pausing between each kiss to change the tilt of his head. It was as arousing as a passionate, delving lip lock. The anticipation was growing.

In the middle of the last kiss, Remington swept her legs over his arm and carried her into the suite.

"Didn't we do this already?" Laura questioned.

"You can't do this too many times, my love."

Laura smiled and peppered his face and neck with soft kisses as he carried her to the large master bedroom.

As tense as the past few days had been, she couldn't resist those blue eyes and his Irish charm. His open-collared shirt didn't hurt the mood either.

She wished she had an antidote to his seductive potion, but it was useless to resist.

Remington sat Laura on the edge of the bed in the softness of the down-filled comforter and stepped back. As she watched, he slowly unbuttoned his baby blue shirt until it opened to reveal his excitement. She surmised he must have caught her looking earlier.

With his shirt still on, Remington slowly removed his belt, black trousers and his briefs, dropping them into a pile next to the bed.

Laura didn't know exactly where this was going, but she appreciated the different approach. It bode well for their future.

Remington extended his hand and pulled Laura to her feet. He led her across the room to the 19th century body-length French oval mirror and stood behind her.

As they both watched, he reached around and undid the dainty buttons of her soft pink blouse. Her head fell back onto his shoulder. "Ah, ah, you need to watch Laura." She didn't think she could handle much more. They were new at this after all and every touch was piercing.

He slid the blouse from her shoulders, caressing her skin as he went. He removed her slender belt, her slacks and stockings until all that remained were her lace-trimmed undergarments.

He reached his hands around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her cheek and the nape of her neck. She shivered.

What the first time lacked in taking it slow, this was going to make up for.

He brushed his lips across her skin and whispered, "Laura, if this was the last night we had together, would you regret any of it?

Lost in his seduction, it took her a few moments to register his comment and respond. Already breathless, she turned to face him. She slid her hands under his shirt and around his waist.

"I would never regret a moment with you. But, this is one of the first nights of many, so let's not interrupt it."

He couldn't argue with that.

He took her mouth as passionately as he ever had. The last of their clothing fell to the floor. In the quickly jumbled mess of bedding, they took turns exploring and seizing. He wanted to remember every last freckle, every soft patch of skin that shivered with his touch; the elegance of her legs, the softness of her hair, her quirky smile and the low, breathless way she said his name when they made love.

When their closeness reached its peak, he met her eyes and managed a brief boyish smile. He kissed her in a flurry of groans and collapsed.

Remington moved to her side with his arm and leg still draped across her body. In an endorphine-induced haze, she turned to look at him and smile. She pushed her fingers through his hair. "I love you. I'll never regret loving you."

She kissed him and turned toward the other side of the bed. With Remington cuddled behind her, she fell asleep. He pulled the sheet and comforter to her shoulder and held her hand.

As he watched her, he recalled all the times he'd nearly lost her and the gut-wrenching realization those times invoked that he couldn't live without her. But, he'd made up his mind; he had to leave her because he loved her too much to stay.

A tear rolled down his cheek and dropped into her hair. "I love you too, Mrs. Steele."

Once he was sure she was asleep, Remington slid from the covers and washed in the bathroom. He put on his briefs and slacks and pulled stationary from the suite's desk.

_My dearest Laura,_ ……

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 6

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington stood at the corner of the warehouse and watched the older man load boxes onto a pallet. It was 2 a.m.

When the man entered a small office and turned on the light, Remington inched around the towers of cardboard boxes labeled FD Exports and waited outside the office door. He kicked a box cutter across the floor, making a grinding noise to get the man's attention, and retreated to darkness.

The man pulled something out of a desk drawer and slowly moved to investigate the sound. Remington could see the gun's shadow through the office panels and cocked the hammer on his Ruger P85.

The grey-haired man had grown pudgy around the middle over the years and was shorter than Remington remembered, but he knew it was him.

The man poked his head out of the office and moved slowly into the warehouse.

"Put the gun down," Remington ordered as he stepped behind him.

The man turned slowly and lowered the gun to the floor. He kicked it to Remington, then looked up. A smile crossed his face.

"Hello Harry."

"Let's go." Remington held the man's arm and forced him into the dark van he'd rented under an alias. He tied the man's hands and feet and put him in the passenger seat with the gun aimed at its target.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Harry, or should I say Mr. Steele. It's amazing how…" Remington interrupted, "Shut up and keep your head down."

Remington drove to a small grass airstrip and loaded the man into the passenger seat of a Cessna Skyhawk. Remington sat beside him with the gun pointed at his chest.

"You made a mistake, mate. I never minded your scams when you targeted fellow thieves, but innocent civilians? That's going too far."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man retorted.

Remington grabbed his collar and pushed him against the frame of the plane.

"Abigail Holt never did a thing to you mate. You almost killed her."

"I knew she wouldn't die. It was merely a warning, and it appears you understood the message."

"I don't know what you're up to Dubois, but I intend to stop this plan of yours and make damn sure you're behind bars where you can't hurt anyone else."

Dubois grinned.

"You don't know who you're dealing with anymore, Harry. You have too much to lose to challenge my power. Even if I'm in prison, there will always be someone to carry out my plan."

"You underestimate me." Remington reached into the front pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a stack of papers. He had forged the dates and scribbled false signatures. It was one of the many talents he had acquired during his time with Daniel. It earned them free services, access to bank accounts and on more than one occasion an invitation to a royal party.

"These are my divorce papers Dubois. Laura and I are no longer married as of yesterday afternoon, so your henchmen have no one to go after."

Dubois studied the decree and snarled.

"No matter. I can wait. Sooner or later you will have family _mon ami_ and I will destroy them. You will feel the desperation I felt when Caterina died."

"She took her own life Dubois."

"She had no choice, Harry. The Calabria mafia is powerful and corrupt. There was honor to uphold. When she'd squandered her father's fortune and became pregnant with my child, she fled to the United States to find me. I vowed to marry her and help her repay the debt before her family noticed it was missing. The Royal Lavulite was our way out. The money from the sale on the black market would have more than covered her family's losses and allowed us to retire to a small island somewhere to raise our family."

He paused. "You took that away from me Harry, and I intend to return the favor."

Remington hit Dubois over the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious. He sat back in his seat, checked the temperature gauge, pushed the throttle and started to taxi.

__

As the sun peaked over the hills of Ventura, the light streamed into Laura's suite. She lifted her head and squinted at the clock, then plopped her head back on the pillow. It was 8 a.m.

She bemoaned having to wake, but she needed to check on her mother, and get cracking on Dubois. She stretched and turned to find the bed empty.

"Remington?" She put on her nightgown and looked in the bathroom. "Remington? Are you in there?"

She walked to the suite's main room and stood in the middle to gather her wits and deduce where her husband had gone. It was then she noticed the note on the table. She picked up the stationary and started to read.

_My dearest Laura,… _it began. She sank into the desk chair.

_My dream for a family came true when I married you on that fishing trawler. I know it was done in haste to protect my identity and to save my hide once more, but since our time in Ireland it has come to mean more to me than you know. _

_When I found out my past was responsible for your mother's pain and your family's fear, I knew there was only one thing for me to do – leave. _

Tears streamed down Laura's face and soaked her gown.

_But, as I watched you sleep and held your hand, I remembered the promise I made to you after Descoine threatened our lives and the agency. I promised I would never leave you for your own good. And, as you know, Remington Steele's word is his bond. _

_I know where Dubois is Laura and by the time you read this, I will have found him. _

_I love you._

_Remington_

Laura quickly wiped the tears from her face and blew her nose. Remington wasn't going to do this alone. She searched his bags, his toiletries, his pockets. He always left a clue.

"Where are you?" she said to herself as she talked her way through the room.

She checked every bag and every piece of clothing, but found nothing. She sat on the bed in frustration. Then, she noticed something in the bathroom mirror. His pajama pants. She pulled the pants from the hook and buried her hands in its pockets. Bingo! A small crumpled piece of paper with scribbled faint pencil marks. She moved into the sunlight to read it…..

_24 15 N, 76 00 W_

She stuck the paper in her purse and picked up the telephone. "Mildred, I need your help."

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 7

By R.J. Harrington,

After a brief stop for fuel in Palm Beach, the four-seat private airplane approached the ragged overgrown airstrip on the nearly deserted island. The strip had once been part of a missile defense base during the early days of NASA's space program, but had since been closed to most air traffic other than the occasional private jet.

As the wheels touched down, Dubois groaned and rubbed the aching knot on the back of his head. He noticed the gun still pointed at his chest and decided against escape.

Remington drove to the northwest edge of the runway and found a spot along a broken metal railing to park. On the other side of the railing and behind an unkempt hedge of prickly bushes, was a small mustard-colored building that once served as a terminal. The building's roof tilted to the left and one of its three windows was broken.

"Get out Dubois. Over there."

Remington dragged Dubois as he tripped over his bound legs through the dried grass.

"In here."

Remington put Dubois in the corner of the room with a hard shove.

"Where are we Harry?" Dubois said with a grin.

"You don't need to know. All I need to hear from you is what you plan to do to me."

"I don't plan to do anything to you Harry; just your wife, and her mother and her sister, and her niece, and her…."

"That's enough," Remington shouted.

Dubois laughed.

"You can't keep me tied up here forever Harry, so what's the plan?"

Remington heard a helicopter approaching in the distance. He held the gun on Dubois and waved a red scarf out the window.

"Keep talking Dubois."

"What do you want to know?"

"Details."

Dubois smiled. "You are a glutton for punishment, Harry."

"You already attacked my mother-in-law. Now, who was next?"

"Your wife, of course."

"You never would have gotten to Laura."

"Oh, you're wrong Harry. I already have."

The two men were playing emotional tag and Dubois was winning.

"You don't even know where she is Dubois."

"The Bella Maggiore Inn in Ventura. A nice quaint inn for holiday, but the suite is a bit overpriced. Don't you think?"

Oh God, Laura. He had left her, wanting to keep her out of this game so she wouldn't get hurt and all he'd done was leave her vulnerable. As hard as he tried not to show fear, he failed.

"How does it feel Harry? To know that your wife is probably lying in a warehouse somewhere, tied up, drugged and God knows what else my men are doing to her."

Remington punched Dubois, knocking him over. Blood trickled from his nose.

Dubois dabbed the blood and smiled as he rubbed it between his fingers.

Remington straddled the doorway and saw the agents coming. He had to get to Laura. Surely, Dubois hadn't found her. But, first he had to make sure this menace and his followers were taken care of.

*****

Flannigan and Smith snuck through the back courtyard of the Bella Maggiore Inn and crouched below the second-floor window of the balcony.

"That's it."

He pointed at his partner. "You walk through the café, along the back of the lobby and up the stairs. The suite is around the corner through a small sitting room to the right. Room 273."

"Right. Where will you be?"

"I'll stay here to watch for ol' Harry. Once you've got her, holler at me from the balcony. We've got orders to meet Dubois at the old headquarters straight away."

Flannigan made a wrong turn on the second floor, but wandered his way to the suite. He picked the lock and quietly turned the handle.

A few minutes later, Flannigan rushed to the balcony. He hit the railing with such speed he nearly tumbled over.

"Do ya got her?"

"No, she's gone!"

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 8

By R.J. Harrington,

"Get down!" the agent yelled from outside as Remington dropped to the floor. Bullets dug into the crumbling outer walls of the terminal and shattered windows. Glass shot across the room and bounced off of Remington's back like hail.

He managed to keep his 9mm on Dubois, who was slumped in the corner still tied at his wrists and knees.

Federal agents surrounded the building, taking cover in the doorway and behind a small outbuilding. The airplane offered some protection near the runway, but Dubois' men closed in from the west and north.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Remington could feel Dubois, and his life with Laura, slipping away.

********

_Eight hours earlier….._

Mildred beat Laura to the office and started cramming all of the information Laura had given her into the office computer.

She was looking for anything she could find on Francois Dubois -- his acquaintances, businesses, where he lived. Laura also gave her a few numbers and letters that looked like a code that might help track Mr. Steele.

"Got anything yet Mildred?" Laura said as she pushed through the office door.

"Working on it Miss Holt…I mean Mrs. Steele."

"Don't worry about the name Mildred. If we can't figure this out, there won't be a Mrs. Steele."

The printer started spewing data. Mildred ripped the sheet from the machine and started to read.

"It says here that an F. Dubois is the owner of FD Exports near 4th and Alameda in the Warehouse District in east Los Angeles. He mainly deals in antiques; gets them into docks in San Diego and Norfolk, Virginia, and has them shipped here."

"Antiques," Laura thought out loud as she paced in front of Mildred's desk. "I doubt that's what he's really into, if past cases are any indication. Mr. Steele said he knew where Dubois was, but I don't think he would be foolish enough to confront him at his business and stay behind to risk getting caught by his men."

"Check the local car rental agencies for any of Mr. Steele's aliases and find out what you can about Dubois' history. If my guess is correct, wherever Mr. Steele has rushed off to has something to do with their past."

"Right."

Laura walked to her office and shut the door. She sat back in her chair and sighed before rattling a pencil between her teeth. She needed to call her sister and her mother and tell them to stay at another hotel for a few days. She would explain later. She dug in her desk drawer for her address book and felt a pang of shame since she hadn't memorized her sister's telephone number even though they moved to California months ago. She pulled out a thick piece of paper, and smiled. It was the black and white photo of Remington she had put in her desk not long after her Man of Mystery first appeared. She'd forgotten she had it.

"We'll crack this thing, I promise," she said as she leaned back and stared at the photo much like she used to each morning before he arrived. "I'll be there soon…wherever you are."

"I got it!" Mildred yelled from the other room.

Laura jumped from her chair and darted to the lobby.

"Dubois has more than a dozen FBI warrants out of Florida for multiple offenses with drug trafficking, money laundering, wire fraud, kidnapping and attempted murder. They are all more than 15 years old."

"Florida? And why wouldn't they have caught him by now? It's not like he was hiding under an alias."

"Well, apparently, nearly all of these offenses were committed as the head of a mafia-type gang based on Mayaguana Island in the Bahamas. They were a mean bunch known for not only threatening witnesses and law enforcement but for targeting their families."

"That's the Dubois we know. Have you turned up anything on the numbers I gave you?"

"Not yet. Let me try a different database." Mildred's fingers flew across the keyboard trying _24 15 N, 76 00 W _in the few databases she hadn't tapped. A few minutes later, the CIA database spit out results. The information was part of an unclassified section used by government officials to learn about a country's culture, economy and safety restrictions before they traveled. Mildred pointed at the screen and grinned.

"Look at this, Mrs. Steele. I think we found him."

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 9

By R. J. Harrington,

As the bullets and now explosions continued to rock the crumbling terminal, Remington lifted his head just enough to squint toward the corner where Dubois was sitting. All he saw was a foot as Dubois slowly dragged his bound legs around a corner. Remington slid across the floor on his side and grabbed Dubois' ankle.

"You're staying right here with me, mate."

Dubois smiled.

"My men know a trap when they see one, Harry. Did you really think you could lure them here and take them without a fight? I'm impressed you got them here at all. And, who are your buddies?"

"Just a few friends who've been looking for a consummate con artist who uses threats to stay out of prison. You wouldn't know such a thief would you?"

Remington continued, "Now, we're going to stay here until I say otherwise. Once your men are out of the picture, we'll take a leisurely stroll to that awaiting helicopter and drop you at your new home. Sound like a plan?"

Still seated on the dusty floor, Remington held Dubois against the wall by his collar and pushed the gun into his throat. Dubois attempted a nod.

The rocket and mortar fire intensified and ebbed a dozen times before Remington heard silence. He pulled Dubois to the front of the terminal to peek around the corner of the concrete doorway. The agent guarding the entrance was lying nearby in a growing pool of blood.

Remington turned and sat just inside the doorway with his knees to his chest, his head back and his eyes closed. This was either the end or the beginning, he thought. He took a deep breath and crawled to a nearby wall to look through a broken window. He saw agents near the runway hidden behind the airplane and large concrete pillars that once supported welcoming statues for visitors. Several of Dubois' men lay dead or wounded in the patchy dirt and dried grass. He couldn't tell if they still had their weapons. What were they waiting for?

Remington suddenly heard the blade whip of several helicopters and what he thought was a jet engine. Dust swirled around the terminal. Remington pulled Dubois to the back of the building and waited against the wall. Agents rounded up Dubois' men from the field, thinking they had them all.

"BOOM!" A thundering blast rumbled their chests. Remington raised his hands to his ears to block the deafening noise before being blown backward. The gun flew out of his hand and toward the wall. He worked to reorient himself and turned to find the weapon. He found Dubois lying on the floor on his side with the Ruger pointed at him.

"Ah, ah, ah, stop right there. Hands up, Harry."

Remington stayed on his knees and raised his hands slowly, clasping his fingers behind his head.

"Now, you're going to slowly move over here and untie my legs and then my wrists. Then, we're going to take a walk out the back door; that is if I don't kill you first."

Remington untied Dubois' legs and wrists and returned his own hands behind his head.

"Let's go." Dubois poked the gun into Remington's back and pushed him toward the rear of the terminal. They stopped at the wooden planked door.

"I want you to go out there with your arms in front of you like you still have your weapon. That should make an easy target," Dubois cackled.

Remington pushed open the door, held out his arms and walked to the left. Dubois followed with his gun still pointed at Remington's back. Dubois jerked to a stop when he heard the hammer of a gun cock at the back of his head.

"Drop the gun Dubois….Now!"

Remington didn't dare turn around. With Dubois' back still turned, he dropped the gun and slid it to the side in the dirt.

"Now, get on the ground with your arms and legs spread."

Dubois complied and a rush of agents seized him. They handcuffed him in body chains and led him to one of three Huey helicopters that surrounded the field. All of Dubois' men – dead and alive – were loaded in the remaining copters.

"You can turn around now."

Remington dropped his hands and turned toward his rescuer.

"Really, Laura, was all of that drama necessary?" he said with a grin as he bent to wipe dust from his trousers.

Laura bent to meet his lips and kissed him, pushing him back up to stand. She wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her into the embrace. When the kiss subsided, they separated to look at each other. Their faces were covered in dust and Dubois' blood dotted Remington's white shirt.

"I'm glad you're alright."

"Me too. How did you find me?"

"With a little help from the CIA, your pajama pants and a little detective intuition."

"That easy, huh?"

"I would have been here earlier, but Mildred and I had trouble cracking the code."

"What code?"

"The one you left in your pajama pants."

"Oh. Nothing gets by you, Laura."

"It should have hit me, but we didn't know until just a few hours ago that it was the Longitude and Latitude for Mayaguana Island. We would have found you eventually, though, after Mildred traced the rental companies. Really, Mr. Steele, we need to find you some new aliases. You're making it too easy."

"I'll try harder next time." He said with a wink. "Let's go home."

Remington held his elbow in front of Laura. She wrapped her fingers around his arm as they walked toward the jet that had delivered Laura to Mayaguana Island.

As they walked, Laura looked up at her husband and grinned. "And, don't think you're getting off scot free on this one. You have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to Los Angeles, you know."

"I know. Hopefully, I'll be doing a lot more than explaining." His eyebrows wiggled.

To Be Continued


	10. Chapter 10

Steele Morning

Vol. 1; Ch. 10

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington trailed his finger down the middle of Laura's freckled back as she slept on her stomach, her hands tucked underneath her pillow.

He reached the small of Laura's back where the sheet crumpled at the curve of her body. Remington resisted the temptation to peek and slid his finger to her side, following the curves of her body to her arm. She turned her head to face him; still asleep.

He smiled. She was lovely in the morning. He nestled back down in the sheets until his face drew even with hers. He touched his lips to her cheek, her forehead and her shoulder, then gave into temptation and ran his hand down her nude body.

"Uuhhmm," Laura groaned as she turned and nuzzled in Remington's chest. He grinned at her sleepy face and messed hair. This was exactly where he wanted to be; a feeling more foreign than he cared to admit.

"Laura," he whispered. "Laura, wake up."

"Why …. are you bothering …. me?" She managed as she squinted her eyes.

She finally adjusted to the light and sat up.

The scent of flowers permeated the room. She eyed pink tulips on the dresser, lilies by the closet and two dozen red roses on the nightstand next to her "side" of the bed.

"What is this?"

"This is my way of saying I'm sorry."

"You didn't need to …" He interrupted, "I know, but let me finish."

"I know I've put you through a lot Laura and you've had every reason to doubt my intentions these past few weeks, but I want you to know I'm in love with you. You gave me a dream, Laura – a name, a home, a purpose, a life. I want to return the favor."

Remington slid from the bed and pulled a dark green leather box from his nightstand drawer. Before she could find the words, he knelt on one knee next to the bed. She slid her legs over the edge. "Laura Elizabeth Holt, will you marry me?"

The fact that he was proposing in the nude was enough to make her laugh, but the shock of the moment held it to a brief exasperated smile. He slid his hand under hers and waited for an answer. She smiled through her tears and gently cupped the side of his face.

"My Remington Steele. I created you from a typewriter and a football team and here you are asking me to marry you. Talk about your dreams come true."

She leaned down to kiss him gently and when they parted, she stayed a few inches from his face. "Yes, yes, I'll marry you."

As she stood she pulled Remington slowly up her body until their lips met again. Their tears dampened the kiss.

"I love you, Laura." Now the words came so easy he wasn't sure what took him so long to say them.

"How long have you been planning _this_?"

"Not long." He noticed the confused and mildly annoyed reaction. "Don't get me wrong. I've known I wanted you for quite some time," he said wiggling his eyebrows, "but asking you to marry me was another kettle of fish."

"So, what changed your mind?"

"Making love at Ashford Castle. You gave yourself to me 'completely' remember, but I didn't do the same. I owed you more Laura. More than a sham marriage, more than hurried nuptials on a fishing trawler and more of a commitment."

"I hope you're not doing this out of some obligation."

Damn, this woman was the most obstinent person he had ever met.

"Laura, please, I've spent my life running from one place to another not knowing where I would be spending the next day or with whom and I just asked you to be my wife. You think I did it out of obligation?"

"No, I suppose not." She hung her head.

He raised her chin with his fingers and grinned.

"You aren't getting rid of me that easy, Mrs. Steele. It appears you're stuck with me for a while."

Laura smiled.

"So, how exactly are we celebrating this new turn in our relationship, Mr. Steele?" Laura said as she pulled him toward the bed.

"I have a few thoughts on the subject," he answered as they both landed on the bed and quickly rolled her on top.

She braced herself on his shoulders and lifted up to see him. With her crooked smile, she giggled. "I guess we could spend our last day of bliss here, in this room, before opening the agency on Monday."

"That's my girl."

Laura leaned down for an engrossing kiss that left them wanting more.

The End


End file.
